


By the Lanterns' Light

by Glueblade



Category: Radiant Historia
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Vague Spoilers, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glueblade/pseuds/Glueblade
Summary: It's the night of Alistel's light festival and Raul has a few things to figure out.





	By the Lanterns' Light

Raul stood at the entrance to the second ward, watching the sparkle of the lanterns arranged around the square. Back when Alistel was established, the people celebrated the newfound freedom for thauma research by decorating the whole town with thauma lanterns that shone brightly in the night.

Even now, when enthusiasm about thaumatech had subsided somewhat, the yearly light festival was a large celebration. It was also one of the rare events Raul did not have to make a public appearance for, as the festival was traditionally under the patronage of the thauma research department.

Things had gotten a lot more festive when Sonja took over it from Fennel, who did not allocate much funding to it and mostly left it to some underlings to take care of.

The only problem with being free on a festival day was that Raul had no idea who to spend it with. Viola was advised to stay home and rest for the day as she still had a long way to recovery from her illness. Sonja was busy with the organisation and he did not wish to interrupt her time with Rosch and Stocke.

He could just walk around and enjoy the atmosphere by himself, but as little as he wanted to admit it to himself, he had started being uneasy when he was alone in open spaces. He was unsure as to why and attributed it to paranoia. So he was glad that he was going to have some company after all.

After Astera, his previous secretary, died protecting him, he did not expect her family to want anything to do with him afterwards. And yet, her brother had turned up after the war to apply for the vacant secretary position.

Clive was more antagonistic than his sister had been and had strong opinions on how a prime minister should behave, but he was an invaluable help in getting through the administrative mess that Alistel was after Hugo’s regime.

And he had quickly picked up on Raul’s discomfort when out in the open and quietly accompanied him without asking whenever Raul’s duties led him outside. Sometimes people joked that the prime minister appeared to have acquired a shadow, but it was comforting to have Clive by his side.

Clive’s friends were more enthusiastic about Alistel’s military side than he was, and had gone either there or into thauma research. Unlike the more administrative branch that was now under Raul as prime minister, these two departments were busy setting up and running the festival. As such, Clive didn’t have anyone to go with either and suggested to accompany Raul.

Clive met him under one of the street lamps in the second ward. The streets were brightly illuminated by various thauma lanterns that chased away the darkness of the late evening. They had inevitably finished work later than usual. Paperwork always piled up shortly before a holiday.

“Good evening, Prime Minister.” Clive greeted him with a characteristic grin.

“There’s no need to be so formal out of the office.” Raul replied, scratching the bridge of his nose self-consciously. The big title was still a bit embarrassing. “Yes, Sir.” There was a hint of a sparkle in Clive’s eyes.

“We appear to have missed Sonja’s opening speech,” Raul commented as they made their way towards the first ward.

“A shame, considering that she is much better at this kind of thing than I am. My only fortune is that the people lost their taste for big speeches after Hugo’s rule.”

Clive laughed with a hint of playful exasperation. “Are you reproaching me on my speech-writing skills?”

“Alas,” replied Raul woefully, “there is nothing wrong with the writing, it is my delivery that is lacking.”

“I believe you told me that Sir Stocke said that what the country needs now is quiet and steady guidance, not a charismatic leader.”

“That may be so, but it does not make me feel better about stuttering during last month’s opening ceremony for the new hospital.” The constant public appearances were easily Raul’s least favourite part of being prime minister.

“It is certainly a contrast to stories you hear about the Slumbering Lion never losing his composure on the battlefield.” Raul rubbed his face. “The battlefield and public speeches are two entirely different stories.”

They eventually dropped the topic and strolled along the street. Alistel was always bright at night, but particularly so on that day. The usual dim, orange light from the street lamps was outshone by the sparkly thauma lanterns put up especially for the festival.

There were numerous stalls that offered snacks and miniature lamps as souvenirs. Clive had told him that his friends were from a farming village and that they’d decided to run a stall selling dumplings made with the village recipe on top of their military-assigned duties.

Clive’s grandparents were from the same village, but had moved to the Alistel capital fairly soon after the state was established. He handed one of the dumplings to Raul.

“You should try them. They taste similar to what my grandfather used to make.” As a sort of selling point, the dumplings were made in a thaumachine shape, appealing to Allistelians’ fondness for technology.

The thaumachines that were still functional had been repurposed into helping with cleaning up debris, which helped somewhat with improving their public perception after they’d been used to bring on so much destruction.

But thaumachine research continued, if slowly. After years of war, not everyone trusted the tentative peace that had been achieved. Not everyone was aware of Queen Eruca’s pacifist disposition and the people’s minds had not fully recovered from Hugo’s propaganda against the beastkind.

When he thought about it for too long, Raul was convinced that leading Alistel towards diplomacy and coordinated reforestation efforts was too much for him. But he had decided not to run from the responsibility and things were progressing reasonably smoothly so far. And he had promised himself to get himself together for Astera’s sake.

Raul quietly ate his dumpling while he watched Clive defend himself against accusations from his friends of literally bringing his work with him to the festival. If Viola was walking around the streets, she’d be treated with respect from all sides, but maybe it was better that people weren’t idolising him.

Seeing Clive joking around with his friends was reassuring, considering how grimly determined he often was at work. Although, Raul thought to himself, he seemed to relax more around him lately.

He was about to have some heartwarming thoughts about how nice it was to see young people having fun when he realised that Clive was already past thirty and was generally not considered young anymore.

They briefly stopped to see Sonja, who was very pleased with how well the first time she had organised the festival had gone. Raul noted that Rosch was with her, evidently making use of the vacation that Raul had managed to get past Personnel.

Most of Alistel seemed to be out on the streets and Raul spotted many familiar faces, including Raynie and Marco who seemed to lead their squad through a drinking competition.

As it got later, they escaped the bustle on the main street and climbed to one of the higher street levels. Looking down on the busy street surrounded by softly glowing light, one really got the feeling that Alistel was going to be fine. It was a peaceful sight. Clive seemed to share the sentiment, as he leaned on the railing and watched the people below with a rare gentle smile.

But he soon assumed a more melancholy expression. “My sister loved this festival,” he said quietly. Raul felt the tranquil atmosphere shatter as heavy memories rushed back to him. “We couldn’t go to these kinds of things together a lot because she was always so busy with work. I used to resent you for that.”

Clive was still staring down on the street, his face turned away. Raul froze up momentarily before scrambling together some form of apology. He’d thought about it so often that the words fell all over themselves now that the topic had been breached.

“Clive, I can only repeat my apologies to you. She didn’t deserve to die by the hands of an assassin sent for me and it’s all because I-” “I’m not blaming you.” Clive cut him off sharply. He closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself.

“I just…need to address this somehow. I was angry with you at first. I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish by becoming your secretary, but I didn’t know what else to do with myself. But seeing how hard you’re working for Alistel and the rest of the world, it was hard to keep holding you responsible. And my sister liked you very much.”

He stopped to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up in this way.”

“No, I- I’m glad that you did. I wanted to apologize for this for so long, but I didn’t know what to say.” Clive looked at him, showing a defeated smile and slightly wet eyes. “I told you you have nothing to apologize for.”

Raul moved a little closer to him and touched his shoulder lightly. The image of Astera lying in a pool of blood had not faded from his memory. If anything, the trauma was resurfacing now that things were starting to settle and he had some time to think.

But finally being able to address his regrets had soothed the pain somewhat. It was a weight off his chest to have Clive’s forgiveness. And perhaps he could slowly move towards forgiving himself as well.

They stood in silence as they watched the bustling of the capital below. It gradually got quieter as the festival came to an end and the sparkle of the lanterns went out one by one.

“You know, I’m starting to understand what my sister saw in you.” Clive said eventually. He gave Raul a short, wistful look. “Please make sure you don’t go home too late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Prime Minister.”


End file.
